


Crabs

by Unforth



Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castiel Behaves Like Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff and Humor, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Massage, Massage Therapist Castiel (Supernatural), Misunderstandings, Only Figuratively, Sam Misses the Boat, Vacation, discussion of sex work, until he doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Sam is enjoying a stroll along the beach during his island destination vacation when a strange, handsome man approaches him and offers him a good time.Kinktober Day 15: prostitution (sort of but not really)or armpit orMassage.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947886
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Crabs

**Author's Note:**

> This is. So not kinktober material. But it's the idea I came up with it and I love it so here we are. I was really thinking I'd do prostitution, but couldn't make up my mind about anything, and then this came to me whole cloth and I just had to. So it's, uh...kinda prostitution...until it's definitely not...and then it definitely IS massage...so basically Sam is an idiot and it's all in good fun.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Written for Kinktober 2020. You can see the full Kinktober prompt list here: <https://twitter.com/kinktober2020/status/1292137619640459272?s=20>.
> 
> You can see my planned out list here: <https://unforth.tumblr.com/post/630614210701819904/alrightgiven-how-ive-felt-in-september-i-dont>. 
> 
> Unedited.

“Hey, mister - you looking for a good time?”

Surprised - at being addressed at all, at being addressed like that - Sam stopped and turned to see who’d spoken. A tall, gorgeous man approached him, his skin ruddy, cheeks covered in stubble, lips spread in a wide, toothy grin. Sand kicked off his flipflops as he walked, and his loose tunic top and ragged worn out jean shorts made him look like far more like a classic beach bum than a sex worker, but with a line like that?

“You look stressed,” the man added, his voice deep with a rasp that suggested many days inhaling the salty sea air.

Sex work  _ was  _ legal on the islands, according to the travel book that Sam had read on the plane ride south. He’d tucked that piece of information away in his mind, along with some fun factoids about the history of the local fort, and some recommendations on places to get good food, not expecting to use it for anything.

“I know at least four sure-fire ways to relax. For a price, I can rub out every single one of your worries.”

Then again...Sam was on vacation, and he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, and the guy was right - sex  _ was  _ a phenomenal way to relax. Sam was all about relaxing. Two weeks all to himself in a tropical paradise, with his cell phone and laptop left to fritter out their charges from disuse back in the States, was exactly what he wanted and what he deserved.

“If you’re interested, we could go back to my place…”

And Sam  _ was  _ interested.

And Sam  _ did  _ need to relax.

And so...screw it! Sam gave the guy a warm smile and a thumbs-up. “I’m Sam! Lead the way!”

“Awesome!” The man’s grin never wavered as he turned and led Sam off the boardwalk and toward a row of shanty-town like beach cabanas. “My name is Cas.” They weren’t squalid or dirty so much as haphazard and windworn...maybe even lived in? “Just so you know, it’s usually a hundred bucks an hour. But...well, I mean...look at you...so, one time offer, if you can offer USD, cash up front, I’ll do you for $80. What do you say?”

_ What do I say? I say that even given the favorable exchange rate that is a ludicrously cheap lay, even without the cash discount. _

_ But no, I won’t say that, because hell if I know what the going rate for sex work is here, and besides, who am I to complain about a good deal? _

“I have cash,” Sam said.

“Excellent - right this way, right this way…” There was an easy sway to Cas’ hips as he walked - sauntered? Strutted? Sashayed? Sam rarely bothered to strain his mental thesaurus but calling what Cas did  _ walking  _ either gave walking way too much credit or sold Cas far short. As they walked, they passed a motley assortment of business operating out of the cabana tents, but Sam couldn’t spare them nor the hawkers offering him food or souvenirs any attention. Cas was sexy as hell, his rear a pleasing swell covered by his jeans, his shirt catching in every breeze to show of his athletic build. Muscles bulged at his calves with every step, and Sam stared, hungry and unabashed. 

Cas had offered.

And Sam had accepted.

And sex work was legal.

What was there to be ashamed of, between two consenting adults?

“Here we are!” Cas announced brightly as they reached the end of the line of tents. His was blue as the ocean, blue as his eyes, and relatively well maintained, with canvas sides extending to the beach save where a single crab crawled underneath in search of shade. Strings of shells made a pleasing tinkling sound in a passing breeze, and Sam had multiple doubts about their degree of privacy, but oh well. He could be quiet, and at least it wouldn’t be like his college apartment where everyone in the building could hear if someone was getting laid by the thump of furniture against walls and floorboards. A sign out front read,

**_Castiel’s Crab Shack_ **

**_Guaranteed: No Actual Crabs!_ **

**_Rates:_ **

**_10 minutes: $25_ **

**_30 minutes: $60_ **

**_60 minutes: $100_ **

**_Bring Your Friends for a Package Deal!_ **

**_Ask About Our Frequent Buyer Punch Cards!_ **

Sam blinked at it and shook his head. Not only was the guy gorgeous, he was  _ hilarious _ ...and he sure as hell better not give Sam crabs, for fuck’s sake. STDs were not on his holiday menu.

“You coming?” asked Cas dryly, holding the tent flap open for him.

_ Oh, I definitely expect to… _

Smiling his warmest, most winning smile, Sam stepped into the darkened interior. It was...not what he expected. Instead of a bed, there was a long, cushioned...bench?...at about waist height. Definitely not something that could support two people side by side, nor did the legs look like they could support one on top of the other. Maybe, possibly, it was some kind of dull-as-dirt sex furniture that Sam was unfamiliar with? A curtain blocked one corner of the space, and the inside of the tent was hung with fresh flowers that made the air aromatic, almost too much so - or maybe that was the candles, placed in profusion around the edges of the room, all aflame as though the midday sun didn’t make the thin tent walls incandescent. Not only did it seem like a place utterly unsuited for a sexual liaison, it  _ also  _ seemed like a fire hazard. Surely one strong gust of wind and the candle flames would catch the tent walls and the whole place would go up in smoke?

And yet Cas had just...left it...unattended...for an unknown duration of time...to solicit strangers on the boardwalk?

Sam didn’t know jackshit about how sex work was supposed to go but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he could at least state with confidence -  _ not like this _ .

“You can strip behind the curtain,” said Cas, tone going business-like. “I’ll get a few things ready out here, and then step out, and you can lie down and get under the blankets. Sound good?”

_ No, it sounds utterly bizarre, but oh well. I’m here now. As long as he wears a condom - or I wear a condom? Who is even topping and bottoming in this nonsense? Or is going to give me a blow job? For an hour??? - I guess it doesn’t matter. What’s the worst that can happen? _

“Your money?” Sam asked, reaching to his pocket.

_ Pretty sure I already know the answer to that. _

“Oh - right, right.” Cas offered another of this big grins, his cheeks bunching up in cute ridges that made his star-illuminated eyes scrunch and glimmer.

_ It’s crabs. _

Something skittered over Sam’s foot as he pulled out his wallet and counted out four twenties.

It was the crab from before.

_ Definitely crabs _ .

“Well, like I said - you do your thing, and I’ll do mine. Oh, and you can leave your tighty whities on if you want, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

_...so...no top or bottom...and no blow job...frottage? Hand job? Intercrural? What the actual hell? _

It was far,  _ far  _ too late to ask. Yeah, Sam  _ should _ . He knew he should. He was about to get into an unknown sexual situation with a complete stranger. Did he need a safe word? Was their lube hiding somewhere amidst the candles? But he felt like he’d missed his window to negotiate the parameters of the encounter when he agreed to the price, and with Cas acting like everything was decided, established, and clear, Sam felt like a dumbass for being unsure.

“...are you waiting for an invitation?” Cas asked teasingly.

_ Remember that part about not being ashamed? _

“N...no…” mumbled Sam, turning and secluding himself behind the curtained off area.

_ I am so ashamed _ .

_ The walls of the tent are pretty thin...I could cut through it...or lift the bottom and escape… _

_...or...you know what? Screw it. This is my vacation, and I am vacationing. This is an adventure. Whatever happens, it’ll make a great story, though maybe not to tell Dean because he will never let me live it down if it ends in embarrassment. Again - what’s the worst that happens? _

Shaking his head - at himself, at the situation, fuck if he knew - Sam did as he’d been told. 

_ Crabs. _

He was in a loose button up shirt with a vaguely floral pattern in pinks in blues and a pair of khaki shorts, and he’d opted for sneakers only because yesterday the sand had gotten between his toes and left him itching something fierce.

_ It’s still crabs. _

Once the items were off, he folded them and made a neat pile - there was a stool in the curtained area for no obvious reason - and, after a moment’s debate, he added his underwear to the pile. Whatever the hell was actually going on here, he wasn’t ashamed of his body. He’d show as much to every rando in the gym locker room, much less a rando he’d just given $80 bucks to so that said rando would do...something...so he might as well go all in or…

...or…

He had no idea how to end that sentence, and several ideas of alternatives to  _ all in _ , each of which sounded appealing in different ways. He started to push the curtain aside, then remembered that Cas had suggested he’d step out first and presumably let Sam know that he could emerge unobserved? Or he’d skip the island in a puddle jumper with his vast hoard of $80? Or he’d--

“I’m set when you are,” Cas hollered.

_ Only one way to find out _ .

Sam stepped out...and the room looked much as it had, except that now the table was covered in several layers of linens, and a folding TV dinner table had been set up beside it, bearing a squirt bottle of lotion - definitely lotion,  _ not  _ lubricant - a towel, and a couple of body pillows. An attachment had been thrust onto one end of the table, and suddenly everything clicked.

It was a massage table.

Cas had sold him a massage.

And $80 was actually kinda steep compared to the island’s going rate, but maybe it’d be worth it.

Either way, there was no backing out now. Finally comprehending...anything...about the situation, Sam got onto the table, face in the cushioned support that Cas had put in place, and pulled the blanket up over himself.

“I’m ready!” he called.

“Excellent,” Cas rumbled, returning to the tent. “I’m prepared as well. Do you prefer light, medium, or heavy pressure?”

“Medium,” Sam answered...and then Cas’ hands were on him.

It was a good massage.

Cas was strong, and adept, quiet and professional. The last, especially, surprised Sam, though he supposed it shouldn’t have. It was his own stupidity (and optimism? and latent attraction?) that had couched Cas’ innocuous initial inquiry as a sexual come on. This was definitely  _ not  _ a story he’d be telling his brother, or anyone else, except in the form of  _ that time I went to the beach and got a fantastic massage from a hippie stoner beach bum _ . Because it was a phenomenal message; within minutes, the pleasure of having the tension worked from his shoulders, his back, his neck, his spine, washed out his senses and his thoughts. There was nothing but the feeling of being touched, of being eased, of being taken care of, focused first on his back, then his left arm, then his right arm, then his left leg, then his right leg, then Cas had him roll over - and oof, fuck, that was a bit of a tent, he should have kept his swim trunks on, as if he’d have actually worn tighty whities to the beach - and worked on his pecs, his lower legs, his thighs…

...and then a timer went off, and Cas pulled away, and shot Sam another of those cocky grins as Sam blinked.

“Was it good for you?” Cas asked with a leer.

Okay, maybe the innuendos hadn’t  _ entirely  _ been in Sam’s imagination.

“Excellent…” Sam agreed, give his neck a single roll that produced a satisfying  _ crunch  _ and a spread of even greater relief. “What was that about punch cards?”

“Buy 5, get the sixth one free!” replied Cas brightly. “That can be 5 one hour massages spread out over however long you’re here, or 10 half hour ones if you’ll really being sticking around for awhile, or 2 two hours massages plus an hour, or, if you’ve got the stamina to handle me for so long, we can even do all five hours back to back.”

“The stamina,” repeated Sam. Cas nodded with an innocent air. “To handle you.” Cas nodded again. “You  _ are  _ a handful.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Cas muttered.

“And if I  _ wanted  _ to have an idea?” Sam asked. Cas blinked at him. “Ya know, dude, when you first approached me, I thought you were propositioning me.”

“Sam, I was literally standing next a to a sign that said, ‘ask me about my award-winning massages,’” replied Cas dryly. “Maybe I lean into the sex puns a little hard sometimes...when I have cause...but still…”

There’d been a  _ sign _ ?

Sam couldn’t remember. 

All he could remember was the seabreeze in his face, and the surf smashing into the shoreline, and a gorgeous man swaggering - yes,  _ that  _ was the word he’d been looking for earlier - up to him and saying…

_ Lookin’ for a good time? _

The massage truly had been a good time.

And Sam had no complaints. 

But at the same time…

“When you have cause?” Sam echoed, half uncertain, half  _ extremely  _ uncertain, half utterly confident, and fuck math.

“What can I say?” Cas shrugged. “I’m not immune to temptation.”

“Neither am I.”

“And are you...tempted?”

Sam was still lying on his back on the massage table. The blankets were still stretched taut over his body. His half-wood still made a distinct bulge. “What do you think?”

“I think that if you tell me which resort you’re at, and give me your room number, maybe we can proposition up a thing or six more.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Is that a no?” asked Cas.

“Does it cost money?”

“I’m not a sex worker, Sam,” Cas replied, rolling his eyes. “Not that there is anything at all wrong with that, but. I’m not.”

“Okay, cool then…” Sam took a deep breath. “I’m at the Crystal Sands, room 1541, Annex C. How does 8 PM sound?”

_ Am I really going to do this? _

“...how about 7, and you buy me dinner?” countered Cas.

_ Of course I am... _

“Dinner, huh? Didn’t you just say you weren’t a sex worker?” Sam said.

_ We’re two consenting adults, and I’m sure the concierge can get me condoms and lube. _

“Oh, I’m not,” Cas replied, “but I like a full stomach as much as the next fucker, and besides, I know  _ exactly  _ how much rooms that high in the Sands costs. You can afford it.”

_ I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? _

“...you know what, that’s fair,” conceded Sam. Something tickled weirdly over Sam’s chest, and he tore his gaze from Cas’ bright, gorgeous eyes...to see that damn crab had somehow climbed onto the top of the massage table and was making its awkward, sideways way up Sam’s leg.

... _ crabs. _

Cas picked it up by a leg and casually tossed it out of the tent.

_ Still crabs. _

“I wish I could make them go away permanently, but no matter what I do, they keep coming back.”

_ What even is my life? _

“I’ve heard a topical ointment will clear them up right quick,” Sam suggested.

_ All things considered… _

Cas blinked at him and then broke into rich, lovely laughter. “Oh...you...I  _ like  _ you...we’re gonna have loads of fun.”

_...pretty damn good. _

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow will be another SPN fic! Destiel this time, either fucking machine or intercrural sex...probably fucking machine...because I'm me...but I'll have to let it percolate a little.
> 
> Check me out on social media!  
> Tumblr: [unforth](https://unforth.tumblr.com/) (very multifandom with a decent amount of politics/social justice)  
> Twitter: [unforth](https://twitter.com/unforth) (mostly MDZS/CQL, with a splash of multifandom and also a decent amount of politics/social justice, cause sorry, them's the times)  
> Discord: unforth#6748


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